


Time

by littlelionleo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom John, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, What am I doing, alex is smarter than everyone else combined, im sorry, lafayette is a little over supprotive if you know what i mean, no smut yet, seriously what is he even doing in college, thats right i said yet, top alexander
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelionleo/pseuds/littlelionleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you are aware of a state which you call is, or reality, or life, this implies another state called isn’t. Or illusion, or unreality, or nothingness, or death. There it is. You can’t know one without the other. And so, as to make life poignant, it’s always going to come to an end. That is exactly, don’t you see, what makes it lively. Liveliness is change, it is motion, so, [laughs] you see, you are always at the place where you always are.<br/>-Alan Watts</p><p>John just wanted to get a degree and get out of here. But then there was a man who raised all sorts of questions. And John desperately wanted answers.</p><p>Alex thinks this pretty, fumbling man is going to be the death of him.</p><p>Aka the self-indulgant college!hamilton fic that no one wanted I am so sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy 4th guys I hope you enjoy my sin about the founding fathers being gay af

“Time. Can anybody tell me what it is?”

 

The professor looked up at the room.

 

The young man looked around as well.

 

Only one hand was in the air.

 

“You, young man. What is time?”

 

“Time is a concept, sir.”

 

The professor tilted his head.

 

“Can you elaborate?”

 

John could only see the back of the man’s head, but he thought he could _ feel _ the smile the man must have been radiating.

 

“I suppose so, sir. Time is a concept, by which I mean it is the fourth dimension that we, as three dimensional beings, can’t understand.”

 

Who was this guy?

 

“Imagine, if you will, a stack of paper, enough to form a cube.”

 

The professor tilted his head. “Go on.”

 

“Imagine drawing a line diagonally across this cube. Now, say we all live in a two dimensional world, just one sheet of paper. all we would see, is one dot in the edge. Now, if I flip through the papers, from a two dimensional view, the dot is moving. From our three dimensional view, we know that the dot is not moving, in fact, it’s not a dot at all. It’s merely a line, seen from the constricted view of a two dimensional being.”

“We, all of us, are the shapes on the paper, and our time is merely a physical form that we cannot fathom as anything other than change.”

 

_ Who is this guy? _

 

The professor opens his mouth as though to speak, stops, closes it, and opens it again before he can speak.

 

“What’s your name, son?”

 

An answer. Proud.

 

“Alexander, sir. Alexander Hamilton.”

 

\----

 

John Laurens hated running.

 

And yet.

 

Here he was, running after a man he had never even met.

 

It’s just- the man was so  _ captivating. _ Like he had an answer to every question.

 

Well, from what John had seen, he did.

 

Throughout the rest of the class, all the man had done ( _ Alexander _ , John reminded himself), was answer questions. It was honestly a wonder that he was enrolled in the class at all, when it seemed like he might as well be teaching it.

 

John just wanted to see his face.

 

He just wanted to tell him how  _ fucking amazing _ he was. How every word that came out of his mouth seemed practiced, how amazing it was that he could quote anything off the top of his head, how he seamlessly blended together references to art and music and math and physics and even pop culture, for god’s sake, every time he opened his mouth.

 

He just.

 

He just wanted to know what he looked like.

 

_ There! _

 

A ponytail that he had spent the whole class staring at.

 

He slowed down, walking up to the man, tapping him on the shoulder.

 

He turned and-

 

_ wow. _

 

Alexander Hamilton was _ fucking beautiful. _

 

His soft hair and sparkling brown eyes and blinding white smile.

 

And wow John should really say something before this gets more awkward than it already is.

 

“I just wanted to say- I just, God, what you said in class? Wait you said a lot during class I should be more- Oh God no that sounds terrible I’m so sorry I didn’t mean it like-”

 

“Slow down, there. That’s it, take a deep breath.”

 

John nodded his head, looking down. God, he was so awkward. Now Alexander was probably never going to talk to him again, how does he always manage to mess these things up?

 

“Hey. can you look at me?”

 

John looked up, nervous.

 

If anything, Alexander’s smile was even more blinding than before. 

 

What?

 

His hand was outstretched.

 

John hesitantly shook it.

 

“Now, What’s your name?”

 

John gulped.

 

“John Laurens, sir.”

 

Alexander blinked, smiled.

  
“Well, John Laurens. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”


	2. Bruises

“What did you want to tell me?”

 

John startled a little bit, looking up from the table at the coffee shop they had ended up walking to. (“I need some coffee, and you look like you need some good tea, so before you say another word, I know the perfect place.” Alexander had said, putting his hand on John’s back and steering him towards the crosswalk.) (John was completely freaking out.)

 

“Um. I just.” How do you tell someone you just met that they’re kind of awesome? “I thought what you said about time in the beginning of class was just a really cool way of putting it and you were just so _ eloquent _ , sir, and I’m not good with words at all so it was just amazing that you could just do that off the top of your head and-”

 

John stopped. He was rambling. And. Alexander was… laughing?

 

“John- John, sweetheart,” he got out between giggles, “thank you.”

 

John blushed and looked down at his tea, both at the praise and the sudden pet name.

 

Alexander stopped himself from laughing, his cheeks dusted with pink. “Really. That means a lot to me. Most people just tell me that I talk too much.”

 

John looked up in surprise. How could anyone accuse this man of talking too much?

 

\----

 

“Shit.”

 

John looked up.

 

Alexander was frowning at his watch.

 

“I’m late for my meeting.”

 

No. Oh no. He’s missing a meeting- it  _ mus _ t be important, men like him are always having important meetings, he could feel the anxiety rising in his chest, and when it got to his throat it turned into  _ fear,  _ and  _ god _ , John had just been sitting here, taking up his time, he’s always so  _ selfish. _

 

He stumbled up from the table, nearly tripping over his own feet, and fumbling over his words.

 

“I’m so sorry, I should have known- I can’t believe I’ve been taking up your time- I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll catch a bus to my apartment, wait no, I should give you some money for a taxi, it’s- it’s only fair, oh god what am I saying you probably have a car I’ll just be going now, I’m sorry for wasting your time, sir-”

 

John stopped.

 

Alexander had grabbed his arm.

 

He stood up and gently tipped John’s chin up before resting his hands on John’s shoulders ( _ god _ , his hands were so  _ strong _ ), and seemed to be looking at John’s face with- concern?

 

“John. You haven’t wasted my time at all. I’m a perennially late person, to meetings, to dates, to classes, even to eating. Do you know how often I get through a day and realize I’ve forgotten to eat? It’s happened more times than I can count. I  _ chose _ to sit here with you, and I do believe it’s one of my better decisions. I suppose, subconsciously, I may have been trying to miss my meeting. It _ was _ going to be terrible, after all. Meetings with Aaron Burr always are, in my opinion.”

 

Who was Aaron Burr?

 

Alexander’s hands slipped off of John, and he rather frantically wished they hadn’t. John looked off to the side, reminding himself that the two of them had just met, and that he couldn’t get distracted associating a man he just met with words like _ home  _ and  _ safe _ .

 

What was important was that whether or not Alexander wanted to go to the meeting, there had to be something grand and important for him to do, and John was stopping him from doing it.

 

So he told Alexander exactly that.

 

Alexander frowned and stepped closer to the smaller man.

 

John may have gasped a little. Maybe. He hadn’t let anyone this close to him in a long time.

 

He quickly looked down, reminding himself that Alexander was his superior (was he? It seemed like he was).

 

He looked up just as quickly as he had looked down when Alexander’s hand  _ touched his face _ .

 

Oh God. Alexander Hamilton was holding his face, tipping his head up to make eye contact, and  _ they were so close together. _

 

Alexander’s brow was furrowed, and it seemed like he was staring into John’s soul.

 

“I need you to listen to me when I tell you this. Every moment in my life has led up to this, to me being in the same class as you, to you finding me, to us in this cafe. Everything has led to this. There is nothing more important.  _ Nothing _ , John.”

 

John might cry. No one had ever been this- this-  _ whatever _ Alexander was doing to him.

 

“Do you understand me, John?”

 

John allowed himself a shaky smile.

 

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

 

Alexander inhaled sharply, hand tightening a little on John’s face, and  _ God _ , John hoped it left bruises.

  
He was so absolutely fucked.


	3. Agony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex's point of view (hot damn I went there)

Alexander Hamilton was fucked.

 

He sort of went off in the philosophy class, but hey, he might as well let the professor know exactly what kind of student he was going to be early on, right?

 

He could see how his classmates were looking at him.

 

So, he’d been proud.

 

He’d walked out of that class with his head held high, ready to go get some coffee before going to his meeting with Burr (fuck that guy, honestly).

 

But then there was a light tap on his shoulder, and he had turned to see a sight he was never going to forget.

 

A man, flushed from running, earnest eyes, wide, shining in the sunlight, stammering out what Alex thought was a compliment, calling him ‘sir’, like he was  _ important _ , like he was the man he so  _ desperately  _ wanted to be.

 

John Laurens was everything he had ever wanted wrapped up in a monumentally beautiful package.

 

Small, slender build, nearly half a foot shorter that Alex himself ( _ perfect _ ), curly black hair pulled into a ponytail, full lips (one of these days, Alex was going to  _ bite _ them), sharp cheekbones, a smile that outshone the sun, and his  _ eyes. God, his eyes. _

 

They were honey and steaming tea and raw gold and  _ dear lord above, Alexander was going to write a book so he could catalogue every freckle on that beautiful boy if it was the last thing he’d ever do. _

 

And yes, he was fully fucking aware that freckles tended to be everywhere on a person’s body. In fact, he was counting on it.

 

And there was the stunning flush that had risen on John’s freckled cheeks when Alexander had stepped close to him in the coffee house. God, had that been a sight. Those golden eyes, shining up at Alex, bright with unshed tears, lips trembling, and that  _ gorgeous fucking blush against Alex’s hands. _

 

And then John had called him ‘sir’.

 

He hadn’t been able to stop his fingers from tightening a little on John’s face.

 

He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly.

 

He could just imagine the way John would open under him, melting  _ into _ him, lips red and bitten like they always should be because,  _ damn _ wouldn’t that be a thing of beauty.

 

Now, this was all hypothetical. Mostly.

 

Alexander would never force anyone into anything (consent was something he learned to value a long, long time ago), and if John told him to stop, he would. But, with the way he had reacted at the coffee shop, it was looking less and less like John would do anything to stop Alexander at all. It would have been so easy to kiss him there, in the middle of that cafe. It would have been so easy to invite him into the back of a taxi, and subsequently up to Alex’s flat. 

 

It would have been easy.

 

Too easy.

 

So, he had to be careful.

 

So he had gently taken John’s phone from his jacket pocket, entered his number in it, and offered to accompany John to make sure he got home safely.

 

He didn’t didn’t think about John’s soft smile as he agreed, but insisted that he would pay the bus fare for both of them.

 

He didn’t think about the softness of John’s hands when their hands brushed as he took his phone back.

 

He most certainly didn’t think about the tenseness of John’s shoulders in the subway crowd, and when Alex rested his hand on John’s back as they stood on the platform (just to make sure they wouldn’t get separated in the rush hour traffic of people trying to get home), he Did Not think about the way John practically melted back against him, resting some of his weight on the taller man.

 

Careful.

 

Right.

 

He could do this.

  
He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just as a bit of background, aside from being an occasional writer and a constant nerd, I'm also a switch, but I tend to sub waaaay more than I dom anyone, so this was almost hard to write... I haven't been in this particular frame of mind in a while, so if anything seems off, please please please let me know! As usual, you can find me on tumblr @kennyparsimmon


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